His Private Nurse

Chapter Four

“You’ll follow us?” Royce asked through the rear window of the SUV, knowing perfectly well that was the arrangement they’d made.

Merrily nodded and waved as she walked toward the employee parking lot, his paperwork tucked neatly beneath one arm. He rolled up the rear window and put his back to it, his injured leg propped on the seat. As the vehicle moved away, Royce put his head back and closed his eyes, disgusted with himself on several levels.

For one thing, just riding in a wheelchair down to meet Dale, who had retrieved his SUV from the house in order to pick him up in comfort, had his heart pounding as if he’d hopped down from the third floor on his one good leg all by himself. For another, he’d just robbed the hospital of a very fine nurse, and he knew that he’d done it for reasons that went far beyond the obvious medical need. The very idea of having Merrily Gage under his own roof, alone with him for weeks, had conjured the sort of dreams that disturbed a man’s sleep. And if that were not enough, at the root of it all was the poor exercise of judgment that had initially landed him in this predicament.

It helped a little to know that he’d already determined to hire Merrily away from the hospital even before she’d shown up in his hospital room wearing neatly cuffed little shorts that made her legs seem as long as she was tall and a top that left no doubt about the maturity of her form. Her breasts were small but high and firm. Their natural shape had been lovingly rendered by that clinging knit top with straps so tiny that she could not have possibly been wearing a bra. She had struck him then as the most natural beauty he’d ever seen. And he wanted her.

Merrily Gage was no girl: she was a woman. Suddenly the possibilities of having her in his employ seemed highly enticing, though pursuing even a semipermanent relationship with Merrily or any other woman was out of the question. He couldn’t deny that he wanted her, so he half hoped that by the time he was physically able to act upon his desires, Merrily would be gone. Hell, he should’ve hired some gargoyle to move in with him and tend to his needs, but he couldn’t be unhappy that Merrily had agreed to help him. His self-disgust didn’t reach that far apparently. For the first time he wondered if he might be the selfish monster Pamela had always claimed he was.

Merrily stopped her car and gaped. “Wow.”

The sandstone house sprawling across the hilltop awed her. The circular drive, arched car shelter and landscaped yard in front were impressive. Tall, arched, leaded-glass windows, the many hips of the copper roof and three soaring chimneys lent an unexpected grandeur to the rolling natural beauty of the setting. Obviously, Royce Lawler was no pauper.

Slowly she started the car forward again and followed the SUV. As she parked behind it under the drive-through, Dale got out and unloaded the wheelchair from the back of the SUV. Merrily went immediately to Royce’s side. He had opened the rear door and twisted around in his seat so that his legs were outside of the vehicle, and he was trying to slide down to stand on his left foot. Merrily quickly ducked under his left arm and slid an arm about his waist, trying to ignore the jolt of heated awareness that accompanied the contact. With Dale balancing his immobile right arm and her supporting the rest of his weight as much as possible, Royce eased out of the vehicle, turned and sat down heavily in the wheelchair. Merrily adjusted the footrests, extending the right to support his injured leg, while Dale unlocked the front double doors and pushed them open.

Moving behind the chair, she grasped the handles and turned Royce toward the house. Royce tilted his head back to look up at her, and though white-lipped, he smiled.

“I cannot tell you how good it is to be home again.”

“I can imagine,” she replied. With such a home, she would never want to leave.

She pushed him into the house, looking around her avidly. The floor of the wide entry hall was inlaid with stone. To the right, one could step up into a large, open dining room furnished with a long plank table and ladder-back chairs with padded seats upholstered in faded denim. Over the table hung an impressive rectangular fixture made of rusty wrought iron, and a large stone fireplace took up one entire wall.

The formal living room opened on the left. Plank floors, this time a step down, were scattered with tanned cowhide rugs and comfortable leather couches. Glass-topped occasional tables of the same wrought iron as the overhead fixtures stood at convenient intervals. Some supported small works of art, bronze sculptures and clay pots. Others held lamps with pierced tin shades. The center wall was composed of a massive double-sided fireplace, through which she caught glimpses of denim sofas in another room.

Farther down the central hall, a pair of steps led up to another hallway on the right. A ramp had been placed here to facilitate the wheelchair. On the left, another ramp had been installed over two steps that led down into a large den with bleached plank walls and floors. A recliner that matched the denim couches had been arranged in front of a large television screen recessed into the wall. At the very end of the entry hall and on the same level was another eating area and presumably the kitchen. The entire back wall of the house seemed to consist of enormous plates of glass and overlooked an expanse of terraced decks, a slope of forested ground and, far beyond, the city of San Antonio.

“Our Nurse Gage is suitably impressed, I see,” Dale commented dryly, and Merrily promptly snapped her mouth shut, aware only then that she was gaping like an untutored child. “Royce believes that a builder’s home ought to reflect the very best of his work.”

“Then I’d say he builds some magnificent homes.”

“You will notice that the house itself is designed and constructed so it contains many steps but no flight of stairs,” Dale told her.

Merrily furrowed her brow in confusion. “But I thought he fell down a flight of stairs here at home.”

Dale pointed toward the deck beyond the glass wall at the back of the house. “It’s outside. A very long, steep flight of stairs that leads down to the back driveway. That’s where he fell.”

“Hel-lo,” Royce said irritably. “In case it’s escaped your notice, I’m sitting right here. Stop talking about me like I’m not.”

Dale grinned and said to Merrily, “Obviously, the patient needs a nap. Let me help you get the chair up the ramp, then I’ll show you where to stash this character.”

“I can do it,” Merrily insisted, knowing that she would have to manage on her own sooner or later.

“I’m not helpless you know,” Royce muttered, seizing one wheel of the chair with his left hand and awkwardly turning the chair toward the ramp. He had no hope of getting that chair up that incline, though, and they all knew it. Merrily, however, waited until he had the chair lined up and aimed forward, then set her legs and pushed with her body until they were on level floor again.

Two doors opened off this level. As they passed them, Royce waved a hand to his left and said, “Through there is the powder room, cloak closet, linen storage and laundry room. That’s my office there on the right. Up ahead on the next level and overlooking the back of the house are the children’s rooms.”

Merrily hoped her shock did not communicate itself through her voice. “I wasn’t aware that you have children,” she said, after pushing the chair up the second ramp.

“Two,” Royce answered. “My son, Cory, is five, and my daughter, Tammy, is nine. They live with their mother.” That subject seemed to be closed, as he gestured to the right. “These two rooms are for guests. Take your pick. Each has its own bath.”

The third and final ramp led to a type of landing and a double door, which Dale hurried ahead to open. By the time Merrily got the chair into the master bedroom, her arms were trembling. Grateful to have a rest, she looked around. The room was huge and contained a sitting area and fireplace, as well as large leaded-glass windows. A door opened onto a bathroom of equally large proportion with similar windows. Another was closed, and she assumed that it led into a closet. A king-size bed with a heavy wrought iron headboard occupied the wall opposite the fireplace. Matching tables with matching lamps flanked it, with a third positioned in front of the window between two side chairs. A rocking chair stood in front of the fireplace, and colorful rugs had been placed strategically over the plank floors. The smooth walls had been painted and stippled to resemble old leather. A wall cabinet stood open, revealing an entertainment center. Bookcases contained not only many books but a number of framed photographs and several small objects of great interest to Merrily. One looked like a lumpy dog sculpted of plaster and colored with crayon.

She had no time to investigate, however, as her patient was showing signs of extreme stress. “Let’s get you undressed and into bed.”

He was wearing a pair of jeans split up one side all the way to the thigh and a T-shirt with one sleeve and most of that side cut out, as well as a single bedroom slipper. The fact that he didn’t argue with her was indicative of his state.

“Dale,” Royce said wearily, “would you get a pair of gym shorts out of the dressing room? It’s the third large drawer down. And get my robe out of the closet.”

As Dale went off to do as instructed, Royce pointed Merrily toward the bath. “You’ll find a pair of scissors in the cabinet opposite the mirror. Should be the top drawer.”

She went readily into the other room, fascinated by the luxury she saw there and what it said to her about Royce Lawler. Through a batwing door to her left, she glimpsed a huge, jetted tub of hammered copper and an equally impressive shower built of curving glass block. To her right was an area of cabinetry with double sinks back to back, mirrors above each, a built-in dressing table with chair and lighted mirror, and a wall of cabinets containing a pair of doors above a set of wide, shallow drawers, the top one of which came to about her shoulders. Between the dressing table and drawers, the dressing room door stood open, revealing walls lined with more drawers and two closet doors. A bench sat in the middle of the floor. As she watched, Dale extracted a pair of shorts from an open drawer, which he then closed before walking into the closet.

She had known, of course, that Royce Lawler was well out of her league. His family was among the most prominent in San Antonio, after all. This place proved that he was a man of rare good taste with the money to indulge himself in the very best. Obviously he would never be seriously interested in a completely average woman like her. As she opened the well-organized drawer and extracted the scissors, she told herself that knowing this fact liberated her from any foolish dreams. Now she could concentrate on her work and enjoy this rare moment of freedom from her family obligations in these surprisingly sumptuous surroundings.

When Royce instructed Merrily to literally cut the jeans from his body, he did so because exhaustion and pain simply precluded that he get out of them the same way he’d gotten into them. She worked without comment, cutting through the heavy denim fabric while he sat passively and Dale turned down the bed after returning to the room with a pair of loose, gray knit shorts and his Texas orange bathrobe. He wore nothing beneath those jeans but skin and could only feel grateful when she finished her job and turned away, allowing Dale to help him out of the mutilated T-shirt. She returned a moment later to drape the robe over his shoulders. Then she wisely stayed behind him as he rose, allowing the ruined jeans to fall to the floor at his feet, or rather foot, as he couldn’t put the right one on the floor, let alone stand on it.

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